


Nana

by Soquilii9



Category: Leverage
Genre: Devotion, Gen, Grandmothers, Love, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: They were going to need help with this one. This time, help came - not from Nate or Sophie, but an unexpected source…
Dedicated to my son Gene on his 35th birthday
NOTE:  The way Nana speaks is NOT meant as a racial slur - it's her dialect from the time period (1950s)  in which she was raised.  I grew up hearing such dialects and loved the people who spoke them.  I have the greatest respect for Hardison's beloved Nana.





	

Every so often, like a bad penny, the team's luck ran out; this time the penny'd been flattened as if by a freight train. It never failed; every time they pulled somebody out of bed with the Mafia, it got ugly. A few of those types of jobs had been completed successfully … some they escaped by the skin of their teeth … while others … The minute they heard Hardison yell through the coms, Parker and Eliot knew this ranked in the third category.

_Bug out! We're blown, we're blown!_

'Who ratted us out?' Parker yelled.

_How should I know?_ Hardison yelled back _. Just get outta there!_

With bullets of all calibers whizzing past their ears, Eliot and Parker ran for the elevator shaft. Parker clamped her rig line to a steel railing anchored to the concrete wall and was about to leap when Eliot caught her arm. Eliot _never_ rode a zip line; he bounded down stairwells like a deer, usually meeting Parker at the bottom within five minutes of her arrival. She looked at him.

'Let's do it,' he gruffed.

Surprised but prepared, Parker secured a carabiner to his belt for safety. He grasped her about the waist with both arms, locking one hand over the opposite wrist at her back. She thought she heard him grunt as she took them both over the side. Wind whipped their hair in each other's faces as they descended. They touched down at the ground floor; from there they planned to exit the freight elevator that connected to the parking lot where Lucille V sat parked, waiting.

Eliot still had his hand clamped to his wrist behind Parker's back and didn't immediately loosen his grip.

'Sparky, I need some slack…let go.'

Parker pushed Eliot back and released his carabiner. Without that support, he fell backward onto the concrete. Parker looked at him and down at her shirt, shocked. Her shirt was soaked with blood.

'Hardison?' she said shakily through the coms. 'I'm bringing Eliot out…he…he's been shot.'

'Aw _no_. No, _no_ , **_no_**. You need me to come in?'

'No, I can get him…just…keep the engine running.'

'Gotcha, Baby Girl. Hurry. I hear sirens.'

Eliot looked up at Parker, glassy-eyed. He was making no attempt to get up. 'Leave me here.'

'Not happening, Sparky.' She bent, hooked an arm under one leg and pulled one arm over her shoulder. She attempted to rise. She couldn't.

'You'll never lift me from this level, Parker. I weigh a hundred and eighty pounds. You'll never be able to…'

'Shut up and get to your feet. I hauled Archie out of a burning warehouse when I was sixteen.'

Parker helped pull Eliot to his feet. At that level, the fireman's carry was easier to execute. Eliot was painfully draped over Parker's shoulders. He fought to stay conscious and hang on, fearing Parker wouldn't make it if she was carrying dead weight.

They made it to the van. The rear doors were open, waiting for them.

Hardison took Eliot from Parker's shoulders and laid him on the floor of the vehicle. He jumped into the back of Lucille and shut the rear doors while Parker took the wheel. In seconds they were speeding down the highway.

Police cars congregated at the scene … five minutes too late.

~~~

'Where to, Hardison?'

The Hacker was busy yanking Eliot's shirt open to find the source of the bleeding. The Hitter was fighting him. Hardison glanced up through the windshield and saw something familiar.

'That intersection sign, Parker. Did that say Market Street?'

'Sure did.'

'OK, Parker, listen … Eliot, stop it! You're gonna bleed to death, man! ... Parker, you're not gonna believe this but I know where we can hole up. Keep going past three more exits and yell out the next street.'

'Ok! Is he ok back there?'

'If I can get him to be still I can find out!' In shock and pain, Eliot continued to wrestle with Hardison, who finally resorted to decking him. 'Sorry, man,' he said, shaking his hand, 'sorry to do that to you. Gotta put pressure on these. _Damn_! I can't _count_ the holes!'

'Third exit coming up, Hardison.' A moment later, she called out, 'Jackson Avenue, one-quarter mile.'

'That's it. Take that exit. Turn right on Jackson.' Hardison grinned to himself. 'She always thought they named that street after Michael. _Nuh, uh_.'

'What?' asked Parker.

Hardison braced for the turn as he held the torn shirt firmly to Eliot's side, using both hands from armpit to hip. 'Jus' talkin' to m'self, Darlin,' he replied. 'Go up to Sixth now and take a left. Slow down a little. It ain't far.'

'What's not far?'

'Where we goin'.' Hardison smiled to himself, thinking of Nate's old line. _Let's go steal a Nana. Maybe she won't want us to come but we got no other choice…I'll talk her into it. I could always talk her into anything._

Eliot came to just then, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand. 'What the hell'd you hit me with, Hardison, a _brick_?' he said, weakly.

'Aw, you like my _Alec Aikido_? Invented it myself.'

'That ain't Aikido, man….ahhhhhhh, _shit_!'

'Sorry, man, I know this hurts but I gotta keep pressure on it. You bleedin' from over a dozen holes. Lay still.'

'I gotta sit up, Hardison.'

'How much further?' asked Parker.

Hardison looked up. 'We crossed the railroad track yet?'

'Not yet.'

'Once you do that, it's the first house on the right. Seven-oh-three. Long, narrow house. Gray siding, white shutters.'

'Gotcha,' said Parker. A short time later, Lucille bumped over the railroad track and turned into the driveway. 'We're here.'

Hardison looked down at his friend. Eliot had passed out.

~~~

Parker exited the vehicle and helped Hardison pull Eliot's inert form from the back end. 'Who lives here, Hardison?'

The big man grinned. 'Somebody you been wanting to meet for a long time. My Nana.'

'Seriously?'

Parker pulled one of Eliot's arms around her shoulder and Hardison took the other. They dragged their injured friend up the crooked concrete walk to the porch of the small frame house. 'Wait, Hardison! What if the cops track us here? Can…can your Nana be trusted?’

‘Don’t you be worrying about my Nana. By the time they count the number of times she's moved an' different last names from the times she got married and then track down all us kids includin' me, we'll be retired. Nana like a pitt bull when it comes to protectin' one o'her own. I bet she'll take care o'you and Eliot, too, 'cause ya'll with me. She always doctored us kids whenever we got hurt or something. She even stitched up Lemond’s foot when he cut it bad - I mean _bad_ \- on a piece o'glass. Couldn’t afford doctors back then. We get in, then you drive Lucille around back.'

'OK.'

Eliot hung senseless between his partners, his head lolling. Hardison tapped on the door. In the few seconds before the door opened, he looked around, remembering the last time he was here. Nana had moved frequently while he was growing up. This was the first time she'd stayed in one place longer than five years. But wherever she was, there was home.

Hardison heard her heavy tread approaching the door. Through the glass cutout he could see her wide black face alight with recognition. She opened the door, shoved her glasses up on her nose and stared at him. 'Alec? Alec? Dat you, son?'

'Yes'm, it’s me.'

She pushed the screen door back so that Hardison could come in, literally dragging Eliot. 'Who de hell is dat you got w'you? Is ’e sick?'

'He my friend, Nana. He been shot. Need some help wid'im.'

'What he done, Alec? F'dat matter, what _you_ done?'

'Please Nana … he bad hurt.'

She sighed. 'Well, hells-a'mighty … I allus tole ya'll young'uns I’d be here to he'p any way I could, but some crazy lookin' white boy w’hair long enough to braid’s some'n else again … but awright … bring 'im on in.'

'Thanks, Nana,' Hardison said, gratefully.

The old lady backed out of the way. 'Put 'im on the bed in the back room, son; I’ll see what I can do for 'im. Get them damned nasty clothes off 'im first.'

Helping Hardison get Eliot through the door, Parker exchanged glances with Nana and smiled at her. Nana returned the smile curiously. She went into the kitchen and put a pot of water on to boil. While she was assembling her makeshift first aid kit and several towels, Hardison eased Eliot onto the bed and began stripping him. Despite his efforts, blood still oozed from over a dozen small holes in his side. _Sawed off shotgun. Bastards,_ he muttered to himself.

Nana entered the room, took one look at Eliot and said, 'Lawd God, son … this pro'lly gone take a hell of a lot more'n _I_ can do … this boy need a doctor!'

'Can’t take him to one, Nana, you know gunshots be reported.'

'So he _is_ in trouble wi' de police. I dunno, son…'

'I'll explain it all later. Please, Nana, just get the bleedin' to stop. 'Member them roots'n stuff you used to boil and that poultice you used on Lemond’s foot that time?'

'Shit, boy, Lemond wasn’t hurt like this boy is … but I’ll try, son. I’ll try.'

~~~

An hour later, with Lucille parked behind the house, Hardison sat in Nana's kitchen while Parker heated up soup and made sandwiches for dinner.

'I like your Nana,' she said softly.

Hardison looked at her with his heart in his eyes. 'I's hopin' you would. You wait'll you get to know 'er. Get ready for some language, though, 'cause that ol' gal cusses like a sailor*.'

Parker grinned.

Nana came into the kitchen just then. 'Dis mighty nice, young Missy, you fixin' dinner fo' everybody. Sorry I didn't getcha name … or the other one neither, for that matter.'

Hardison got up from the table and introduced Parker. 'This is my girlfriend, Parker, Nana. The guy we brought in, his name's Eliot. We’re all of us together. They’re my partners.'

'I ain't for damn sure gonna ask _in what._ ' She sat down to ease the constant backache she felt these days. _Damn old age_ , she thought. 'Well,' she said aloud, 'as for that boy, Eliot, he be holdin' his own … for now. I got the bleedin' stopped. I reckon rest'll do him the most good after I get them bullets out. After that if he wake up and feel like eatin' we'll give him some o'dat soup. Best thing for 'im. Smell mighty good.'

'Just out of a can. Added some noodles,' said Parker. 'Nice to meet you, Nana.'

'How do, Miss Parker. I reckon he done tole you, I raised Alec from de time he was five, so anything he done wrong you fuckin' well blame _him_ for, not me. I done my _best_ wid 'im!' Nana laughed raucously and patted Hardison's hand which was resting on her shoulder. She looked up at him. 'So … y'got yo'self a white girl, did you, son? That's fine. She’s purty. Real purty little girl.'

'Thank you, ma'am,' said Parker.

~~~

Hardison held a light over the bed and Parker assisted as Nana patiently picked out shotgun pellets from the many wounds in Eliot's side.

'Some of 'em went straight through, some went in, some made dese furrows - dey de ones bled de mos'. He musta turned just as they pulled de trigger on dat shotgun,' said Nana. She closed the worst wounds with black thread. 'Get that tray on the dresser and put it on this chair seat, Alec. We gon' dose 'im up again.'

Hardison complied.

Nana took the cap off a condiment jar and sprinkled a pungent red power liberally over the entire area. Parker, watching her closely, sneezed. Nana placed the jar back on the tray. Hardison picked it up and looked at it.

'Damn, Nana, this is cayenne pepper! Ain't you 'fraid you gonna cook 'im to death?'

Nana laughed. 'Don't you 'member, son? This what I put on Lemond. You so little you pro'lly forgot. Cayenne or even black pepper'll stop bleeding and heal 'im fast. What it do is bring blood to de surface to take away poisons and start de healin'. After dis, I rub wheat-germ oil an' aloe vera in. Good thing none o'dese holes is deep. Don't think anythin' went into de organs. But, now, I ain't gon' lie to you, dis boy's lost a pow'ful lotta blood. Only thing we can do 'bout dat is let 'im rest and feed 'im up. Ya'll gonna stay de night, ain'tcha?'

'If it's no trouble,' said Parker.

'Goddamn, chile, if it was trouble I wouldn't ask you. I'm sho' you don't mind if I take de couch over dere. Old bones cain't manage de floor, and he layin' on de only bed I got. Ya'll make do on de floor with some rugs for paddin'?

'That be fine, Nana.' Hardison hugged the old woman tight.

'Ya'll get what you need outta the linen closet over there. I'm gonna stay up with this boy for a while.'

Hardison turned and looked back at her gratefully. 'Thank you, Nana.'

'Ya'll m'children, what else you expect me t'do?'

~~~

The morning sun aimed its beam through the east window and struck Hardison in the face. He raised his head. Parker was snoring softly beside him. He glanced at the sofa - the sheet was rumpled and the blanket thrown back, so Nana had been sleeping, too, but where was she now?

'Nana?' he called.

'In de kitchen, son.'

'You check on Eliot? How's he doin'?'

A low, familiar growl could be heard through the bedroom door. 'I ain't dead yet if that's what you worried about, Hardison! Where are we?'

Hardison got to his feet and went to Eliot's bedside. 'You're at Nana's.'

' _Your_ Nana?'

'Thass right.'

'Huh. So we made it outta there ok? Ya'll get hurt?'

'Naw, we fine. So far nobody's chasin' us.'

Eliot winced as he tried to sit up. As Hardison helped him, stuffing a pillow behind his back, he asked, 'Say, man … does your Nana keep any beer in the house?'

'Yeah, Eliot, I believe she do, but that is **_the_** _last thing_ you need ri–'

'Go get me a beer, Hardison,' Eliot growled.

Hardison shrugged. 'Awright…' He turned to go.

Parker came into the room, a freshly opened beer in her hand. 'I heard,' she said.

She sat gently on Eliot's bed and handed him the bottle. He sipped a little, sloshing it around in his dry mouth. After a second his contented expression became his worse frown as he spewed drops of beer all over the quilt.

'Dammit, Hardison, what the hell kinda beer does your Nana drink?? Tastes like piss!'

Hardison, incensed, rolled his eyes. 'Hey, now, don’t you be dissin' my Nana!'

Eliot made a face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

'So,' Parker said, setting the bottle on the table. 'What do we do now?'

Nana appeared at the doorway, carrying a tray filled with her own medicinals and a bowl of Parker's beef broth with noodles. 'I tell you what ya'll gon' do. You two gonna help me change dese bandages and den one o'you gonna feed dis chile.'

Eliot actually smiled. Not many people got by calling him 'boy' and he was long past being a child; Nana calling him such made him feel warm and welcome in her house. She had a way about her; a rough, no-nonsense, earthy, maternal manner that somehow appealed to him. He could see why Hardison felt the way he did, why he spoke of her with such devotion. Despite Hardison's tendencies toward the illegal, the man he had become was largely due to this woman and her influence. Maybe there was something to that old saying about training up a kid in the way he should go.

Nana had mixed a hot poultice to reduce swelling and avoid infection; Eliot sucked air through his teeth as she placed it over his wounds and patted it down. Next came a fresh quilt to hold the heat in.

Parker immediately shoved a spoon under his nose. 'Feel like eating?'

Eliot scowled but opened his mouth. The soup was so good the muscles of his forehead relaxed and he actually allowed Parker to feed him. She got half the bowl of soup into him before he waved her away.

'Don't overload 'im, chile,' said Nana. Right now dis boy need a nap.' She looked sternly at Eliot. 'Ain't dat right?'

He nodded and relaxed back on the pillows. In seconds he was asleep.

'Now, you two come in de kitchen. I wants to have a talk with you.'

Parker and Hardison exchanged anxious glances but followed behind her. She motioned them to sit at the table.

'Alec, you been a good son. You nevah was just a foster child t'me, I allus had a special place in my heart fo' you. But I _knows_ what you been up to all dese years. I ain't dumb. You didn't get all dat money** t'pay for my surgery runnin' yo' paper route.'

Hardison hung his head. Parker looked at him sympathetically.

'Nana -' Parker began.

'Wait'll I finish, Missy. What I wanna say to you children is you can _allus_ come to me … fuh _anything_.'

The two looked at her in surprise.

'Thass right. Ya'll need a meal, you come. Ya'll need shelter, you come. Y'need, what dey call it, a safe house? Come on in,' she said, gesturing widely. 'I's always here. I was allus here fo' Alec and I'm here fo' Miss Parker an' Mist' Eliot. I see de kind o'peoples you is. You cain't hide what in de heart. Missy here, she pro'lly done already lifted my change purse outta my bag an' I 'spec Mist' Eliot got shot up f'no good reason, but I think you doin' what you doin' t'help people. Thass what I see and thass what I'll allow under my roof.'

Parker sat with tears rolling down her cheeks and Hardison's eyes were brimming.

'Now,' Nana continued, 'I'm gonna be watchin' over Eliot while you two go to de store for groceries. We outta everything. Take my car.'

Parker got up and hugged Nana fiercely. Hardison held his grandmother tight. Nana handed the car keys to Hardison.

Just before they left, Parker placed Nana's change purse back in her bag.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes
> 
> *From The Stork Job: We called her "Nana," but she was our foster mom. She, uh... she -- she would cuss like a sailor. The old girl would tan your ass just as soon as look at you. But -- but she fed us, she bathed us, she put a roof over our head. And, oh, she would raise hell if you so much as looked at us crooked.
> 
> **Hardison made The Bank of Iceland pay his Nana's medical bill which is why he's wanted in Iceland.


End file.
